


DECLARATION OF FAMILIAL RELATIONSHIPS AND NEPOTISM WAIVER

by BuddhistBabe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, Caught, Discussion of Past Child Abuse, Drunkenness, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Past Child Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddhistBabe/pseuds/BuddhistBabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Steve and Tony were caught in a comprising position, and the one time they weren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire Extinguisher

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in present tense, and that was such a bad idea, because i keep having to go back and double check my tense constantly. But, I like the feel of present tense writing, so I kept up the battle. If you notice any tense issues, please let me know so i can do a rewrite. 
> 
> I was informed heavily by pre-serum Steve. He just resonates with me in a sincere way.

**Oh, and all the chapter titles are slang terms from Steve’s time that I got from[here](http://home.earthlink.net/~dlarkins/slang-pg.htm). Enjoy :)**

\---

It isn’t like a relationship he’s ever had before, this thing he has with Tony. They aren’t pals, but they aren’t enemies either. They have a very tentative respect for each other’s skills (sort of), but not for each other’s...well, anything else.

 

Steve knows that whatever his personal opinion of Tony, or indeed the man’s entire way of life, Iron Man is actually one of the good guys. He works hard and always comes through, even if he acts like an asshole the entire time. As leader of the team, Steve considers it his duty to let Tony know that even though they disagree on, okay yeah, most things, he doesn’t doubt the man’s abilities and wants the two of them to have a cordial and cooperative relationship.

 

That’s why, one afternoon at Stark Tower, Steve makes his way through the glass door of Tony’s workshop. Tony is sitting at his workbench, using a soldering gun on something so tiny that it requires three levels of magnifying glass. He looks remarkably un-Tony to Steve, jeans and a wifebeater instead of an Armani suit, but then again the undershirt has a hole cut in it for the arc reactor, and there’s no reason for that except to draw attention to it. Attention seeking is very Tony.

 

“Stark.” Steve says in way of greeting, “I wanted to talk to you.”

 

“Whatever it is you're selling, I don’t want any.” Tony says without looking up, “Unless it's girl scout cookies. No one turns those down.”

 

“I just wanted to thank you, Stark.” Steve says without much fanfair.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, shrugs, and is just about to head for the door, when Tony suddenly looks up.

 

“Wait, what?” Tony blinks, swiveling in his chair to face Steve full on, “Thanks for what?”

 

“For everything.” Steve says sincerely, walking closer to come and lean against the workbench beside Tony, “For making Banner feel like a person, instead of the Hulk. For turning the building supposed to be dedicated to your company into somewhere for all of us to live. For repairing our tech, or just giving us your brand new inventions. For being a team player, even though that isn’t your usual MO. I appreciate it.”

 

Tony opens his mouth to say something, but before sound comes out he accidentally drops the soldering iron and a very minor explosion causes a few harmless sparks to spring out and land on the front of Steve’s pants. Steve has only enough time to glance down and recognize that the sparks did no damage before a fire extinguisher is blasted all over his crotch. It’s cold. Painfully cold. And when he goes to grab his private area in an automatic reaction, the cold hurts his hands too.

 

“DUM-E!” Tony is yelling, “Your fire extinguisher privileges were revoked weeks ago, you little shit! Where’d you get that?!”

 

“I need something…” Steve winces, “To clean up...the..”

 

“I am this close to turning you into a toaster!” Tony continues to reprimand Dum-E as he fetches a shop rag for Steve’s frozen crotch, “I thought you’d be use to the cold by now, Cap.”

 

Tony tosses the rag at Steve, who applies it quickly to remove the icy foam. Still reeling from shock and, if he’s honest, a little humor at the whole thing, Steve drops the rag before he’s finished. Both he and Tony go to catch it at the same time, but Steve actually does have faster reflexes than Tony, and the end result is Steve clutching the rag and Tony clutching Steve’s crotch.

 

Which is precisely when Bruce walks in.

 

They are all still for a long moment, just staring at each other. Bruce’s eyes flicker from where Tony is still cradling Steve’s cock and balls, to both their faces, and then back again. Tony seems to suddenly realize what he’s doing and jerks away with a dramatic cry like he’s burned himself. Bruce looks like he might smile, but hasn’t decided if it's a good idea yet.

 

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Tony says with more humor in his voice than Steve appreciates.

 

“We weren’t. This isn’t.” Steve stutters uselessly.

 

“No?” Bruce asks, definitely deciding on the smile after all.

 

“No!” Steve rushes towards the door, stopping only briefly to say a polite “Dr. Banner” before getting out of the workshop like he’s being chased by the entire third reich.

 

“When did that happen?” he hears Bruce ask just before the door clicks shut.

He doesn’t hear Tony’s answer, too busy launching himself into the elevator. As the numbers scroll towards his own floor, he clenches his fists so tight his knuckles turn white and manfully suppresses the mysterious feeling of half-hardness in his pants.

 

 


	2. On A Toot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I actually updated this story within the same week! Let's hope I can keep this pace!

Steve enjoys the mornings. He’s the only one who gets up this early, with the possible exception of Natasha, and it means he can read the paper while he eats without having someone (read: Tony) make fun of him for it. He goes for a jog first thing, then overcome by a hunger exasperated by his supercharged metabolism, he heads for the kitchen where scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and bacon awaits.

 

Steve feels a headache coming on as soon as he sees Tony in the kitchen. He’s about to just walk out again when he realizes that Tony is wearing one of his gauntlets from the Ironman suit, and has it pointed at the microwave.

 

“What the hell are you doing, Stark?!” Steve demands, wondering what the microwave has done to deserve this.

 

“Putting this pathetic dinosaur out of its misery.” Tony slurs, and Steve looking around the kitchen in horror. Its littered with empty bottles of scotch, beer, and more shot glasses than it should take if you’re drinking alone.

 

“Have you been up all night? Wait! Don’t!” Steve lunges at Tony, grasping the armored hand around the wrist and pointing it down at the floor, “Have you lost your mind?!”

 

“Gerroff me!” Tony scrambles to get back into firing stance, “It must be stopped!”

 

Steve has no idea what Tony is talking about, but easily pops the glove off the inebriated man’s hand with his thumb, letting it slip to the floor with a clang. Tony moves as if to crouch and pick it up, but Steve grabs the back of his shirt collar and yanks, pinning Tony between the island and himself, keeping his clutch on his wrist. Tony pushes uselessly against Steve’s chest with his one free hand, but even if he wasn’t drunk, he’s no match for Steve. The blonde keeps him tight where he has him, pressing against him in a long hot line from hip to chest, one arm around his waist and fisted in his shirt, the other holding tight to his hand. Tony reaches up to grab at Steve’s hair as a last resort to free himself.

 

Which is how Natasha finds them.

  
  


“He was trying to blow up the microwave!” Steve says, absolutely mortified.

 

She raises one well manicured eyebrow and smirks. Steve likes Natasha. More than the respect he has for her as a teammate, they’ve become friends. Steve can’t stand that her opinion of him might become less than admirable over some kind of misunderstanding.

 

“That only sounds like the truth because it’s the kind of thing I would do!” Tony declares dramatically, wriggling enough in Steve’s arms that he lets him go. Steve doesn’t move  his feet, however, steadfastly standing between Tony and the microwave.

 

Natasha doesn’t speak. She simply walks over to the refrigerator and grabs a single-serve bottle of orange juice out of the door. Her smirk is so bright and full of meaning it looks like it might spring from her face if it were on anyone but someone with her level of self control.

 

“I hate to point out the obvious,” she says before she turns to go, “But it's a big building. You might want to move this to a more...private place before the rest of the team wakes up? Just a suggestion, Captain.”

 

“We weren’t...!” Steve tries, but she’s already gone, leaving just as silently as she arrived. He makes a terse sound against his teeth, and shoves himself away from the island and Tony in one movement.

 

“JARVIS” Tony says softly, staring at his feet, “Have...whoever does those kinds of things collect all the microwaves in the place and have them sent to the Stark corporate office. Care of: Pepper Potts.”

 

“Shall I attach a note, sir?” the computer asks in its usual prim British accent.

 

“Just say...’You forgot some of your things when you moved out.’”

  
Steve is about to say something, but the sadness in Tony’s voice stops him. And when he stumbles out of the kitchen drunkenly, Steve doesn’t follow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to make it clear that my reference to Steve reading the newspaper does not mean he doesn't know how to get news online, it's just that he likes the feel of it. He data-checks interesting articles via his phone, later.


	3. Balled Up and Baby Grand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once Again, all the chapter titles come from this site, which is slang from Steve's era. 
> 
> http://home.earthlink.net/~dlarkins/slang-pg.htm

The next week, when Tony is injured badly enough that even he can’t protest being sent to the hospital (on account of being unconscious), Steve finds himself hovering in the door of a hospital room, mustering up his best grim soldier’s smile.

 

“Why are you still in bed?” Steve asks, mimicking a commanding officer’s bravado he doesn’t feel, “You might be able to pull one over on the nurses here, but not me! You look well enough to be-”

 

“Haha. That’s right.” Stark croaks sarcastically, “I’m faking to score all this sweet hospital food.”

 

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Steve grins, moving toward the bed to pull up one of the hospital chairs that aren’t any more comfortable than they were in the 40s, despite their modern design.

 

“I feel like the Hulk sat on my chest.” Tony groans, wriggling in his bedsheets like he can’t quite get comfortable.

 

“No, you can’t fool me,” Steve says, mock-dismissively, “Nothing can get through that tin can of yours. Com’ere.”

 

Steve holds out his hand in an obvious arm wrestle position, wriggling his fingers and gesturing with his chin at Tony.

 

“Come on, Stark,” he says, “Afraid I’ll wipe the floor with you? Again?”

 

Tony’s eyes light up like there’s a fire behind them, and he shifts until his body is tilted toward Steve. He’s still lying down, but his elbow is sturdy on bed and he reaches for Steve’s hand, clasping their palms together with a loud smacking noise.

 

“Captain, I could beat you with the Big Guy still sitting on my chest.”

 

Steve smiles, but tries to make it look like bravado rather than relief. A half a dozen similar interactions with his men long ago flash before his eyes as he curls his fingers around Tony’s hand. _I know what you’re doing, this is laziness. - We all know you’re strong as an Ox. - You’re just here cause the nurses are cute aren’t you? - Belly wounds aren’t that bad. It’s the knees you’ve got to watch out for. - Hey, can you hear me? Don’t fake. I know you’re not that bad off._ Pretty lies, makeshift comfort for dying men in a warzone.

 

“On your mark,” Steve announces, clearing his throat of the lump there, “Get set. Go!”

 

Tony’s efforts are so feeble, Steve’s hand doesn’t move an inch. The way their hands are joined is in fact rather gentle; Steve supporting the solid weight of Tony’s hand as much as his own. It’s upsetting to see Tony this way. Tony’s who carries dozens of scars, half of them Steve can feel on his hands in this moment. Most are from the work he does in the garage; self-induced battle scars because Tony can’t back down from a fight, even one he’s having with his own mind. So Steve gives himself over to the fantasy, as much for himself as for Tony. Steve considers just gripping a bit tighter and swinging Tony’s hand down on top of his, but he doesn’t think Tony would appreciate the free win. Instead he pretends it’s a struggle to keep the match even, squinting and glaring, flexing the muscles in his arm like he’s trying and failing to flatten Tony’s hand to the bed. He’s careful not grip Tony’s hand too tight, but he makes it look like he is, and after a few moments Tony’s laughter fills the room.

 

“Let’s call it a tie, eh Cap?” Tony says fondly.

 

“No, I’m going to win.” Steve insists, rubbing little absent minded circles on the back of Tony’s wrist with his fingers.

 

Tony’s smile turns wicked, and he grabs both his and Steve’s hand with his free one, tugging against Steve’s token resistance until they are pressed against the bedspread at his belly.

 

“That’s cheating!” Steve accuses, overly theatrically.

 

“Superior intellect wins again!”

 

They exchange bright, if contained, smiles. Tony gently strokes Steve from wrist to elbow and back again with the hand that won him his victory. It feels nice, like a surrogate for the desperate way Steve wanted to cling at Tony’s hospital gown and scream ‘YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE’ so he lets Tony continue his ministrations unchecked. The simple touch makes him feel more real; grounded.

 

Which is when Thor walks in.

 

“Forgive me!” the alien prince bellows, “I did not mean to intrude on your tender moment!”

 

It takes Steve a couple seconds to register just what this looks like, his hand clasped gently in Tony’s, Tony stroking his arm with the gentleness of a lover.

 

“Arm wrestling!” Steve cries, yanking his hand away, eyes wide and darting between Thor and Stark like a ping-pong match,  “We were arm wrestling!”

 

“Unbelievable.” Tony sighs.

 

Thor simply chuckles.

 

“Fear not, you will find no harsh judgement from me.” Thor’s deep voice mellow with sincerity, “Dr. Banner informed me of your joyful news! Love is something to be celebrated! Especially between shield brothers!”

 

“We’re not-” Steve begins, but cuts off when Tony starts pushing at buttons on a large, clunky control console, causing the bed to lurch and groan. He’s trying to sit up, but the bed doesn’t seem to be cooperating.

 

Abandoning the controls is distaste, Tony wrestles himself up into a sitting position and clutches his chest like a scandalized Victorian heroine.

 

“That big green gossip! I’m going to hide all his equipment in Natasha’s underwear drawer!”

  
Steve buries his face in his hands and tries not to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the update. I actually have the next chapters already written (all except the last one) so I might just go ahead and post the next one today as well. Let me know how urgent it is that you get your update ',:)


	4. Splifficated Spill

It’s nearly midnight, and Tony is already so drunk that he’s knocking into trays of hors devours. He had started drinking before the benefit began, and by the time the guests arrived the mood had already steered away from the charitable projects of Stark Industries, and more towards which photo was going to end up being the front page of the Enquirer the next morning.

 

“Please get him out of here.” Pepper pleads with Steve, eager to begin smoothing over Tony’s insults and lude gestures which were endangering the Rebuild New York Fund.

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve says dutifully, slinging one of Tony’s arms over his shoulders and getting him into the private elevator.

 

“I love you, Pepper!” Tony calls over his shoulder.

 

As the doors closed, Steve catches sight of Pepper’s face. It's sad.

 

Steve nearly loses his grip on Tony as they tumble out of the elevator, but somehow manages to keep them both upright. Tony sways as he walks, and it takes everything Steve has to bring the man all the way to his bedroom, rather than just dumping him on the sofa in the main living room of the three floor suite.

 

Flopping the smaller man face-first onto his California King size bed, he begins the ritual he had often done with old friends of his in a lifetime past. He takes off Tony’s shoes first, then rolls him over the remove his tie and undo the first two buttons of his shirt. He’s just begun working on getting Tony’s belt off, when the drunken man speaks up.

 

“If someone walks in right now, they’ll think you’re taking advantage of me.” He says with a tiny cackle, “You! Your face! Would be so! So! Worth it!”

 

“That would be just my luck, lately.” Steve agrees, eyeing the door warily. He pulls the belt from its loops as quickly as possible. Next was the dinner jacket, which was more of a feat than the rest had been, because Tony was basically refusing to cooperate. At last he sits the man up, pulls the jacket off both his arms in one motion, then pushes him back down. His legs are hanging off the sides, but honestly Steve is already done with this activity tonight.

 

“No, wait!” Tony says, reaching his arm out towards Steve as he turns to go.

 

“What is it, Tony?” Steve sighs, waiting obediently.

 

“Stay.” Tony says, throwing himself into a sitting position on the bed.

 

“I have to go back to the party, Tony.” Steve says, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, “We’re doing this for…”

 

“No!” Tony all but shouts, lurching out of bed and at Steve, throwing his arms around him, “Stay.”

 

“Tony.” Steve says warningly, “Go back to bed.”

 

“Join me.” Tony whispers. Then, he sticks his tongue in Steve’s ear.

 

Steve freezes. Steve Rogers, Captain America himself, is standing absolutely still as Tony Stark tongue fucks his ear. Steve’s brain has completely shut off. He can’t manage a word, and is barely breathing. His mouth drops open, his cheeks flame pink and red, his eyes widen in shock, but his feet stay planted, and his hands stay in his pockets where he’d had them. Steve could feel himself becoming turned on in spite of himself, but he’s always liked this particular move and the arousal is not as much of a surprise as the fact that Tony Stark, Tony Stark mind you, is starting to move away from his ear and down to his neck and is currently doing his absolute best to completely devour Captain America like this was...invited.

 

It’s not until Tony drops to his knees and begins fumbling with his fly, that Steve comes to his senses.

 

“Tony, no, you’re drunk.” He grabs Tony by the shoulders and hauls him up and away. Tony is drunk enough not to realize he’s being rejected until Steve has sat him down on the edge of the bed.

 

“I’m almost always drunk. Nothing new. Come on, come on…” Tony is mumbling, as he continues to try to literally get into Steve’s pants, “I’m good at it. You’ll like it. Let me suck it. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Come on. Please? I don’t want to be alone.”

 

Steve kneels down so that he’s eye to eye with Tony, and his fly is a good enough distance away that Tony can no longer make his feeble attempt at undoing it.

 

“Tony, no.” Steve wants to be annoyed, but can’t help but be compassionate at the sad sound of Tony’s voice, “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

 

Tony just sits there, staring morosely into the middle distance.

 

“My father talked about you constantly. You were this scrawny kid, more brain than brawn, and he turned you into a supersoldier.” Tony sighs.

 

Steve blinks slowly, keeping his face blank and without judgement as best he can manage. He doesn’t say ‘No, Erkstein turned me into a supersoldier.' even though he could have.

 

“I was scrawny.” Tony whispers, “And brainy. But I made myself a suit, and now I can fly. You can’t fly.”

 

“No, I can’t.” Steve agrees, standing carefully and pulling back the bedcovers to try to navigate Tony under them. Tony begins to wriggle out of his dress pants and Steve assists, ignoring the slight erection in Tony’s underwear.

 

“You’re such a teeeeease.” Tony whines when he realizes that Steve is only taking his pants off to make him more comfortable under the covers, and not for something more carnal.

 

“I tell you what,” Steve begins, against his better judgement, “I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

 

“What’ll we do until then?” Tony asks, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Lay quietly and try to go to sleep?” Steve asks hopefully.

 

“Did you ever fuck my dad?”

 

“No.” Steve sighs, removing his own jacket, shoes, and tie to lay down in bed next to Tony.

 

“Belt.” Tony prompts, unbuttoning his own dress shirt with steadily declining success, “And your shirt sure will be hard to sleep in.”

 

“I’m not sleeping here.” Steve says, even as he complies with Tony’s wishes. He moves to help Tony with his shirt once he’s done with his own.

 

“Pants.” Tony pouts, “They’ll wrinkle. And that’s an expensive suit. I bought it.”

 

Steve closes his eyes, counts to ten, and sighs.

 

“Fine, but no funny business.” Steve agrees reluctantly.

 

“Until I’m s-s-sober.” Tony promises through a yawn.

 

“Right.” Steve says, rolling to face away from Tony under the covers and to make an attempt at sleep.

 

“Did your dad every hit you?”

 

“Everyone hit me.” Steve says softly, feeling a familiar nostalgia, not for the beatings, but for the unabashed hope he had once carried with him like it was weightless. Now all he thinks about is war, anticipating the next fight, never of finally being free of it.

 

Steve feels the bed move behind him, and a lean arm moves around his waist as Tony spoons him.

 

“Hey…” Steve says warningly. “No sex until you’re sober. I believe that was the deal.”

 

“I’m just hugging you.” Tony says, annoyed by Steve’s, albeit half-hearted, rejection. He’s grinding against Steve ever so gently, but since it feels like this is Tony’s best go at trying _not to_ , Steve allows it. Yes. That’s why he allows it.

 

“But in the morning?” Tony asks, placing a whisper soft kiss against the crook of Steve’s neck, “We can?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”  Steve says flippantly, ignoring the tingles the kiss causes,  “If you still want to do it when you’re sober, I’m all yours.”

 

“OH ho-ho!” Tony laughs directly into Steve’s ear, “I’m going to hold you to that!”

 

“You’re not going to want to have sex with me when you’re sober.” Steve says, and he’s surprised that it comes out sounding almost disappointed.

 

His comment is met only with snoring.

  
-  
  


“Hey! Fury wants to talk to you two.” a deadpan voice announces in the bright morning light.

 

“Hrmm?” Steve rubs his eyes and tries to sit up, but finds it more difficult than usual. There’s something attached to his chest. It’s warm, and heavy, and smells good, and if it were not for his military training, he could see himself ignoring the voice entirely and slipping back into sleep. But Steve musters what will he has half asleep to sit up and take stock of his surroundings.

 

“Ah!” He exclaims, seeing Hawkeye standing in Tony’s bedroom.

 

Tony’s bedroom, where Steve is wearing nothing but his boxers and an undershirt, in bed with a nearly naked Tony Stark still trying to curl around him despite this new position.

 

“Just tell him we’re standing next to him on the eyepatch side. He’ll never known the difference.” Tony says, somehow managing a remarkable zinger even while half asleep and hungover.

 

“This...this…” Steve begins, stumbling out of bed and making a mad leap for his clothing. Both of their expensive suits are strewn around the room in such a way that makes it look remarkably like a lot more happened the night before than actually had.

 

“Isn’t what it looks like?” Clint finishes for him, smile full of knowing. It’s that same damn smile everyone keeps giving him, and Steve’s so sick of it.

 

“We weren’t doing anything!” Steve promises, doing up his fly and throwing a dress shirt he hopes is his over his shoulders, “We were just sleeping. Platonic sleeping.”

 

“Yeah, but you said that in the morning you would let me-” Tony begins into the pillow that has replaced Steve in his arms and Steve throws Tony’s dress pants at his head to shut him up.

 

“No!” Steve shouts, pointing at Tony, and then pointing just as dramatically at Clint he repeats, “No!”

 

“You’re a terrible boyfriend.” Tony says, a mock pout on his lips.

 

“He’s not. He’s not my boyfriend.” Steve says to Clint in a would-be casual voice, followed by a nervous laugh he hasn’t used since before the serum.

 

Clint just raises an eyebrow.

 

“Fury,” Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and leaves the room without meeting either or their eyes, “Come on, Tony. Fury wants to talk to us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please point out any typos or grammar mishaps you come across. I have no beta.


	5. Three-letter Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different, going off of the 5+1 format a little. There will be one more chapter, though.

Director Nick Fury is an intimidating man, what with his large scar interrupted by the eyepatch, his use of curse words like they’re punctuation, and his long leather trench coat. Steve likes him. He reminds him of all the best generals he ever knew, attitude like piss and vinegar, but with a genuine affection for his men. He also has the kind of common sense respect for the rules, without being a stickler when it's unnecessary; important in a commanding officer.

 

“Colonel Fury.” He says, voice calm and confident, despite the walk of shame he’s doing in yesterday’s clothes.

 

“Captain. Good.” Fury rubs the top of his head and puffs out a long breath, like he’s already exasperated with the conversation he’s yet to have, “You first. Stark’ll be the nut to crack.”

 

“I’m first with what?” Steve asks, squinting and shaking his head ever so slightly.

 

“To sign this.” Fury slams a single sheet of paper down on the glass coffee table.

 

Steve walks over to the pit in the center of Tony’s living quarters which houses the transparents coffee table and white leather sofas. The sofas are currently occupied by both Natasha and Thor. Bruce is fiddling with his glasses and pacing behind them. Picking up the paper, Steve discovers it is a form for…

 

“Declaration of Familial Relationships and Nepotism Waiver” Steve reads aloud, “What is this?”

 

“Sorry, Steve.” Bruce says softly, glancing up into the captain’s baby blues, before looking back down at the floor. Steve is confused.

 

“It’s about you and Stark.” Fury says, not at all surprised by the extra step this is already taking, but not enjoying it either, “We need to get your relationship formally on file. It’s regulation. Not a big deal. Just sign it.”

 

“What’s he signing? What’s going on?” Tony demands, sauntering into the room looking just as fully disheveled at Steve feels, but with an air like it’s the most attractive look for him. Steve doesn’t exactly disagree.

 

“Nepotism waiver.” Fury snaps, “Just sign the damn thing.”

 

“We’re not together!” Steve says, voice strong and definitely without a trace of the panic welling up in his chest.

 

“They were in bed together.” Clint says dryly, wearing his too-cool-for-school grin. He flops down on the couch next to Natasha and recounts the details directly into her ear so that no one else can hear.

 

“I’m not a homosexual.” Steve insists, still winning the fight to keep his voice calm in front of Fury, “I like women. End of story.”

 

“How many women have you dated lately?” Fury interrupts Steve with more sigh than sharpness in his voice.

 

“This is about quantity?” Steve asks, taken aback.

 

“Have you dated any at all?” Fury rephrases, but the sideways look out of his one good eye says he already knows. Natasha smirks.

 

“I’ve been busy, but I’ve...flirted...even kissed...” Steve feels exposed as he looks around the room at all the faces of his friends and teammates. They’re all amused except for Tony, who to Steve’s surprise, looks a little disgusted.

 

“Hey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve been saving the world every other week since he woke up, so maybe you could-” Tony begins defending Steve gallantly, and although Steve knows everyone in the room is only going to think it's because they really are together, Steve’s face softens with gratitude.

 

“Before, then.” Fury counters, “How many girlfriends did you have before you froze.”

 

Steve’s mind goes to Peggy, briefly, before shaking it off.

 

“None.” Steve says, arms crossed over his chest, and sticks out his chin defiantly, unashamed, “What’s your point.”

 

“It’s a different world now, Captain.” Fury says, taking the necessary steps to get close enough to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and smiles at him in a fatherly way, “If you’re not interested in women, you’re not going to be punished. We just need to do the proper paperwork.”

 

“He’s right.” Natasha says from where she’s sitting next to Clint on the sofa, “A lot of public figures are gay now. You might get a tiny bit of backlash, but we’ve dealt with bigger PR nightmares than this. It’s not like you’ll get kicked out of the armed forces”

 

Steve looks over at Dr. Banner, where he’s keeping a safe distance from the center of the crowd as usual. Bruce shrugs and winces, nodding to confirm what both Col. Fury and Natasha are saying.

 

“Was it not always such?” Thor asks, startling the room with his normal talking voice, which is a couple decibels higher than most.

 

“No it wasn’t.” Fury says to him briefly, before turning back to Steve, “But it’s all fine now, Captain. You don’t have to hide it. Not like you did before.”

 

Steve feels completely torn. Yes, its true that women have always seemed a little intimidating to him, but that was because he thought they were too pretty to do anything but reject him. Beautiful from a safe distance. He wants to argue that point, that women are scary because he’s attracted to them, not because he finds them repulsive in some way. At the same time, his friends are being remarkably supportive. They think he’s been living a lie for years and want to help him be confident and secure being himself. It’s so terribly misguided and kind, and Steve doesn't know how to balance the gratitude he’s feeling with his annoyance that they are so incredibly wrong about the whole thing.

 

“Well, I’m not.” Tony says suddenly, “Got nothing against it, but you can ask Pepper-”

 

“We’ve spoken to Miss. Potts.” Fury cuts him off much more sharply than he did Steve, “She’s already filed the necessary paperwork to dissolve your relationship.”

 

The stricken look on Tony’s face breaks Steve’s heart in an instant. It all comes together for Steve, all of Tony’s erratic behavior. The flirting and the drinking, his attempt at seducing Steve the night before. The man is in mourning.

 

Steve reaches out to put a comforting hand on Tony’s soldier, but before he can touch him, he’s grabbed the pen off the coffee table and signed his name on the form. Tony looks the paper up and down briefly, then tosses it back down on the table.

 

“There.” Tony spits out, “Make sure Pepper gets a copy.”

 

Then he’s gone, marching stiffly across the hardwood floors and into the elevator before Steve can stop him. It doesn’t really matter, because Steve knows where he’s going. He briefly turns to shake his head in disappointment at the high-pressure intervention group that is the Avengers, before heading towards the stairs.

 

\----

 

“I thought we were just having a fight.” Tony says a little too loudly as Steve walks through the door of his workshop, “Should have known. Pepper doesn’t bluff.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Steve winces, immediately regretting the pathetic attempt at comfort.

 

“Yeah, well…” Tony says. He’s hold instruments in his hands, but they’re not moving with the jack rabbit speed that’s usual for him, circuitboard in front of him lying untouched. The silence stretches out between them for several long minutes.

 

“How is it that you’re still a virgin?” Tony blurts out suddenly, incredulous, “I mean, are you just not interested in sex at all?”

 

“No. I don’t know.” Steve sighs, feeling his face burn red but knowing that after Tony’s deeply personal admission, he deserves to get a little back “Before the serum, women weren’t much interested in me. And...they scared me a little. Then after, I...I felt like I was tricking them somehow. Like I’m fake. Not really...this person.”

 

“Well, what about…” Tony pauses, “The Hydra guy? This guy, the one with the red skull?”

 

“Red Skull?” Steve asks dryly.

 

“Yeah. That’s actually his name? Wow.” Tony says dismissively, turning back to what he’s pretending to do, “He took the same super-soldier serum you did, right? Or something similar. And it turned him all kinds of ugly. Bruce too. He’s still go the him that’s him, but I wouldn’t call the Hulk a looker. But you, it made you beautiful.”

 

Steve blushes, eyes large and mouth soft, like Tony had just handed him a bouquet of roses.

 

“What you are today isn’t fake, its an expression of what’s inside. It’s who you really are.” Tony continues matter-of-fact, like he’s solving a logic problem, but the effect on Steve is profound, “Plus, I’ve seen your before photos. Skinny, yes. Ugly? No.”

 

“You...think I’m beautiful?” Steve asks, and it comes out breathier than he’d intended.

 

Tony looks up, startled, like he's forgotten Steve's there. The two stare at each other for a long moment, and Steve finds himself thinking about whether or not Tony is beautiful. The facial hair is not something he’s a huge fan of (goatees always make him think of movie villains), but the eyes are actually quite lovely. Not big, doe eyes, but small, framed by well groomed eyebrows. Dark, yet somehow bright with humor and intelligence. He can tell why many, many women have agreed to spend the night with this man.

 

“Cap,” Tony is of course the first to break the silence, “What would have happened if no one had walked in on us?”

 

“When? Which time?” Steve asks with a snort of humorless laughter.

 

“That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Tony crosses his arms over his chest and quirks an eyebrow.

 

“What?” Steve rolls his eyes, “You think something more would have happened if Clint hadn’t-”

 

“I’m not talking just about this morning, although that is an excellent point I’d like to get back to,” Tony interrupts.

 

“You think, what? That something more might have...That we might have...” Steve asks, keeping irritation high in his voice despite actually genuinely wanting to know.

 

“I don’t know what would have happened. Again. The point. Maybe we’ve been so busy trying to explain to everyone that nothing happened-”

 

“You haven’t been trying very hard.”

 

“-that we forgot to consider what might have happened.” Tony gets a far away look in his eyes, like he’s picturing the alternate universe in which no one had walked in on them.

 

“Nothing would have happened.” Steve says, turning away and towards the door.

 

“You sure about that?” Tony’ calls after him, but Steve doesn’t turn around.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you guys think! I"m excited to try this 5+1 thing ^_^


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